Master of the Shadows (4 page)

As castellan of Rosethorn, Sylas carried duties not limited to supervising the suzerain’s stronghold. The safety of the estate was his primary responsibility, which meant constant monitoring, augmenting, and improving of stores, weapons, and defense measures. Through daily training on the proving ground, he ensured the readiness of the garrison to face any threat, from a full-scale attack by Brethren fanatics bent on destroying the
jardin
to the intrusion of a curious mortal unaware of their existence. In Robin’s absence, Sylas had complete authority over the
jardin
as well, and performed in his lord’s stead by hearing grievances, settling disputes, and granting requests.

Sylas refused to set himself above his men, however, and always took his turn among the suzerain’s personal guard, which required him to occasionally accompany their lord whenever he traveled from Rosethorn to his great house in the city.

Rebecca understood why he served as both castellan and warrior, and respected him for it, but that didn’t make her like the separation any better. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Nor do I,” he said. “Our lord has been strangely restless of late. Will rarely has a moment of peace. Tell me more about this Carmichael woman.”

Rebecca recalled the brief conversation she had had with Reese. “She wishes to be shown through the interior of the house so that she might choose the most favorable spots for the photographs needed. She has never been here, and asked if I would take her on a tour of it.”

“She
told
you she wishes to spy upon us? Just like that?”

“Every curious mortal is not a Brethren agent wishing to destroy us all,” she told him. “Tish said something about her once. I think she is Will’s special friend.”

Sylas grunted. “I will speak to the men anyway.”

“I thank you, but I have already done so.” His indignant look made her chuckle. “You were busy.”

“I am castellan. You are chatelaine. The ladies and the household are your charge; the garrison, the weapons, and the fortifications are supposed to be mine.” He thought for a moment. “I will direct Alain to escort you and this mortal while she is here.”

“Alain will only wish to use her,” Rebecca pointed out.

“Aye, but you may keep him busy fending off anyone else who comes at her.” Sylas’s hand rasped over the short, tight black curls his constant cropping could never quite disguise. “Attend to this special friend of Will’s, but do it quickly, my lady. Strange mortals do not belong at the stronghold. Even those we are told to trust.”

While he buttoned her gown, Rebecca twisted her light brown hair into a neat coil, which she pinned against the back of her head before she slid two ivory combs on either side of it. She handed him an airy silk snood and sat down on the edge of the bed while he gathered it over her hair and tied the ribbons. “Do you think you are to stay in the city until the morrow?”

“’Tis likely.” He kissed the side of her throat. “No longer than a single night, I promise.”

Neither of them cared for being apart for longer than a few hours. Rebecca knew it was mostly due to the physical and emotional dependency they had on each other, a rare but enduring bond that had been born when they had risen from the mortal grave where they had been buried together, and walked the night as immortals. When separated from his
sygkenis
, a Darkyn male became uneasy and short-tempered; he could not rest or find pleasure in anything. If the separation was unwilling or extended, both partners would quickly grow unstable and even dangerous.

The bond Rebecca shared with Sylas was rather more than one merely of blood. In the last days of their mortal lives they had been two strangers desperately battling to save the innocent. That hopeless struggle had forged a sudden but deep friendship between them. Rebecca loved her husband, but she also respected and trusted him, as he did her. When death had come for her, he had not run away like the others, but stayed with her, holding her hand in his. She had begged him to go, to save himself, but he said that life without her had no interest or meaning for him anymore. He had not let her die alone and afraid, but went with her into the darkness.

There had been a price for that loyalty, one some might have found heavy or even terrible, but in time they had learned to deal with that, as well as all the other changes that becoming Kyn had wrought.

Rebecca made her way slowly to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. She turned this way and that, examining her reflection.

“We need a holiday,” Sylas said, coming up behind her. “You work as hard now as e’er you did for the church.”

“Holiday comes from the words
holy day
,” Rebecca reminded him. “’Twas the church that used to give us leave from our duties.”

“Aye, so that we might sit and listen to hours and hours of promises of damnation in poorly spoke Latin.” He nipped her ear. “If you miss it, we could arrange to spend the day in bed watching the Evangelical Channel.”

Rebecca laughed. Her husband despised television above all modern things. “I think I would trade all my jewels to see you do such a thing. If I had jewels.”

He turned her around, his expression troubled. “You do not miss it still, do you?”

Rebecca’s humor faded a few degrees. She did miss it, her human life. The enjoyment of food, the pleasure of working in the sunlight, the companionship of her friends among the sisters. Few females rose to walk the night; those who belonged to Locksley had been either villeins or gently bred ladies. As chatelaine, she was responsible for them as well, so what friendship she felt toward them was ever tempered by her duty to watch over them.

But Sylas had lost as much as, if not more than, she. The plague had taken every member of his family, including his beloved younger sister, for whom he had sacrificed so much. That loss had nearly destroyed him.

“My only regret in this life and all the others that have been or will be,” she said, winding her arms around his waist, “is that I did not find you sooner.”

Will rose in the early afternoon, tired of staring aimlessly at the ceiling. He’d managed to rest an hour, but thoughts of Reese kept his mind as a dog chasing its tail, ever turning in useless circles.

He dressed, collected the day’s mail from the slot in his door, and skimmed through it. Among the various business letters, purchase orders, and reports was a postcard from the county courthouse, stating that Robin Archer was scheduled to appear in court for jury selection in two weeks.

“Not again.” He crumpled the postcard and made a mental note to speak once more to their human friends in the Atlanta Police Department about permanently removing Rob’s alias from their computers.

Will walked through the connecting door to the penthouse suite. Immediately he smelled the dark ginger scent of the red-haired mortal from the nightclub whom Robin had brought to his bed. Mild irritation set in as he tracked her path and found that she’d been all over the rooms. He’d have to arrange to have the entire suite cleaned to rid it of her scent.

Will didn’t understand why his master had brought the woman here. He’d always preserved the privacy of his city home as a refuge, a place of retreat from the mortal world and the responsibilities of the
jardin
. Certainly it hadn’t been for convenience’ sake; the rooms they kept reserved for their use at the hotel had been closer.

At least she’s gone
, he thought as he straightened a pillow and moved into the kitchen. He’d been obliged to watch the security cameras until she had left the building, which she had done shortly before dawn.

He couldn’t see what Robin found so interesting about her. She had been a pretty thing, well dressed and pleasantly mannered, but they hadn’t trailed her to the club for her charms. She possessed a great prize, the book Robin had coveted for centuries, and the only true reason Robin had to trifle with her was to help him obtain it—and yet he had brought her here and used her for his pleasure.

Surely there would be complications now. With mortal females, there always were.

Will eased open the door to Robin’s bedchamber, saw the surprising fact that his master was still at rest, and silently gathered the glasses left by the bed table. He took them into the adjoining bath in order to dump the dregs left in them in the sink. He should have persuaded Reese to come to his rooms last night. Even holding her in his arms through the long daylight hours would have greatly improved his rest—and his mood.

“Will?” Robin came to stand in the doorway and looked into the room. “Where is Chris?”

“Do you mean the human female from last night? I cannot say, my lord.” Will shut off the taps and dried his hands. “I assume that she returned to her home after she departed.”

“She left?” His master sounded puzzled. “When? How?”

“’Twas near dawn; I secured the elevator after she used it. I saw no car, so I presume she went on foot. I sorted through the mail, and it seems you were summoned for jury duty again. We can hide from mankind for near a millennia, but try as I may I cannot seem to purge your name from the county courthouse mailing list.” Will’s wry frustration faded as soon as he turned and saw his master’s expression. “What is wrong? Did something happen with the female?”

“Yes. No.” Robin walked away.

Will followed him into the bedchamber, where his master paced around the bed, examining the carpet before he went out to the front rooms. He returned muttering under his breath and disoriented, as if someone had clubbed him over the head.

Will set the glasses aside. “Rob? Why do you look that way? Did she take something?”

Robin ignored him, wandering about the room listlessly, as if lost in it.

Whatever had happened between the mortal and his master, it had not left a favorable impression. Will was just about to inquire of him again when Robin focused on him.

“How did she appear to you when she left?” he demanded. “Was she disoriented? Did she seem upset?”

Will thought back to what he had seen the night before. “I watched her through the security monitors only long enough to assure that she left the building, but she seemed well.”

“How well?”

“She was tidily dressed and moved with purpose. She did not weep or drag her steps. She did not take anything, and she did not look back.” Will didn’t like the change in his master’s expression. What the bloody hell had that female done to make him like this? “Did you not send her down?”

“No.” Robin caught a glimpse of something and moved to the bed, taking from the linens a short length of gold chain. He held it as if it were made of copper—the one metal that could wound the Kyn—and yet examined it as closely as if it were fashioned of priceless diamonds. Then, even stranger, he twined it about his fingers like a lock of a woman’s hair. “I never bade her to go.”

“You…” Will stopped as Robin’s meaning sank in. “I do not understand, my lord. You never allow humans to stay the night.”

“This one I did. Or should have.” Robin put his hand on the bed, smoothing it over the rumpled silk sheets. “I slept with her, and she left me.”

“I’m sure it was for the best. Had she remained and awoken before you—”

“You do not understand me,” Robin snarled. “I
fell asleep
with her. With her in my arms. I slept with that woman and did not wake, did not dream. I slept as I have not since my human lifetime.” The golden chain disappeared inside his fist. “How could she go like that?”

He was, Will saw, entirely besotted. Utterly enraged.

“You must have compelled her to leave before dawn,” he assured his master. “She would not have departed herself, not while be spelled.”

Robin made a contemptuous sound. “I begin to doubt that she was ever under my power.”

If the female had been impervious to his scent
and
his charm…“Could she be a Brethren operative?” Will asked. “We have known them to be resistant to
l’attrait.
’Tis said they are bred that way.”

“Why would one of those zealots seduce me,” his master countered, “much less leave me alone and sleeping in my bed, when she could kill me or have me taken?”

Will’s worry eased. “True.”

Robin seemed to notice something, and walked over to the bedside table. He lifted the lamp and removed a small square of paper. He unfolded it slowly and, after staring at it for some time, said, “She wrote a note.”

The gingery scent of the woman still radiated from the bed, the strongest concentration of it in the room. Will went over and pulled the coverlet over the sheets to mask some of it. “You would be wise not to contact her again, my lord. A mortal who cannot be compelled is unpredictable, even dangerous.”

“She does not offer me her phone number or contact information,” Robin said in a blank tone. “She thanks me.”

Christ Jesus, she’d used him and left. Will almost laughed at the irony of it—Robin had done the same thing to countless mortal females—until he saw the glitter in his master’s eye and instead cleared his throat. “That was very, ah, polite of her.”

“Am I
no
one to her, then? Someone she must thank in writing? For what? A mistake she never intends to repeat?” Robin crumpled the paper and tossed it away. “She used me. A mortal. A mortal used
me.
”

“The stone-hearted bitch.” Will busied himself with tidying the bed pillows. “Shall I track her back to her lair and offer her a sternly worded rebuke, my lord?”

His master kept speaking as if he hadn’t heard him. “She did not purchase anything at the auction last night, but she did register as a bidder. She would have had to show her identification and give them a credit card. You will go to the auctioneer’s office and obtain whatever information they have for her. I particularly want her full name and where she resides.” He frowned. “She told me that she recently transferred here from Chicago. Once you have her full name, call Jaus and ask him to run a background check on her.”

Will often performed background checks on the mortals who did business or came in regular contact with his master; it provided a measure of safety for his lord and sometimes identified potential conflicts before they could happen. But never in all the centuries of serving Robin of Locksley had he investigated one of the females he used for sex. His master’s habits had not changed in seven hundred years: He spent one night with a woman, pleasured her, and then never saw her again. The females he slept with simply didn’t merit any sort of attention from Robin, other than now and then using
l’attrait
on those who became too spellbound, but only to remove their memories and assure that they would not return to bother him.

“Rob.” He stepped into his path to stop his master’s pacing. “It was ill-mannered of this mortal to leave in such haste, but her actions are hardly worth so much trouble. Forget this.”

“No. I was not finished with her.” Robin went around him, opened the closet, and ripped a shirt from its hanger, rending a sleeve from it in the process. He tossed the ruined garment aside before taking another.

The display of anger startled Will; he decided to choose his next words with more care.

“You know that women of this time are not like Kyn females. They have much freedom and independence, and they do as they wish. They do not respect men as we expect they should, but that is how things are in this society—”

Robin turned on him. “When have you known me to sleep the day through, from dawn to dusk? With a mortal in my bed?”

“Never.”

“Just so.” Robin pulled on the second shirt. “She did something to me, this female. I shall learn exactly what it was.”

He would not allow that the bloody female had simply taken what she wanted and left satisfied. Robin had never dealt very well with resistance or rejection; both reminded him of Marian, the great love of his life, who had neither wanted nor loved him in return.

“She could not drug you or exhaust you.” Will collected the torn shirt from the floor. “Could it be that she made you happy?”

Robin turned on him. “Do I look happy to you now?”

“Not in the least, my lord. Forgive me for suggesting otherwise.” A signal came over the radio Will carried, and he answered it. “What is it, Sylas?”

“An Italian lady has arrived to call on our lord,” the other man told him. “She gives her name as Contessa Salvatora Borgiana.”

Will glanced at his master, who gave him an impatient nod. “Escort her to the reception room,” he told Sylas. “Our lord will meet with her shortly.”

As far as Will was concerned, the interruption could not have been more timely. His master needed to forget this mortal and return his attention to more important matters. With a little luck, he would put her out of his head and forget the indignity she had caused him to suffer.

He pressed the radio’s call switch before he asked Robin, “Were you expecting the contessa to call?”

“I did not know she was in America.”

“She may have been driven out of Italy by the Brethren,” Will said. “So many have, these last months. Shall I prepare rooms for her and her men?”

“Sylas and Bergen can attend to her needs.” Robin continued dressing. “You have work to do. Go. I want to know everything you can learn about this mortal before dawn.”

Reese woke to the sound of a mobile phone ringing, and reached blindly until she found it and brought it in front of her burning eyes. The display showed the time—why had Father allowed her to sleep for so long?—and a pet name:
Lover boy.

She switched it on and held it to her ear. “Hello.”

“Did I wake you?” Lover boy had Will Scarlet’s voice.

He
is
Will, you idiot.
“No.” She sat up, dragging the sheet to her chin. He couldn’t see her, but she slept naked, and talking to him while she was bare-skinned made her feel exposed. She had to say something, greet him as if nothing had happened.

Nothing had happened. Yet. “How are you?”

“Tired. Somewhat annoyed. Very sorry for behaving like such a jackass last night.” Will sounded tentative, as if he were afraid to say more, and then went on. “Reese, I want you to know that I never meant—”

“It’s okay. You can make it up to me when I get to Rosethorn.” She glanced at her watch; she still had enough time to prepare. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

“That is the other reason I called. I can’t meet you there tonight. Rob is attending a gallery show in town, and I must go with him. We will not be returning to the estate until later, likely after midnight.”

He was telling her everything she needed to know, as if he knew what she intended to do. Did he know? “It sounds like a great show.”

“You could meet us there,” Will suggested. “Rob is escorting an old friend, but I will be on my own. We could talk about what happened last night.” When she didn’t reply, he added, “Or perhaps not.”

“I’d love to be there,” she lied. “But it’s the catalog. I have so much work to do on it.”

He muttered something, and then said, “So the fact that I forced myself on you has nothing to do with the manner in which you’re now avoiding me.”

“Yes. No. It wasn’t—” She stopped and rubbed her hand over her face. “It wasn’t like that. I’m not avoiding you.”

“Prove it to me, sweetheart.” The rough tone became soft and persuasive. “Come to the show.”

Trying to think of another excuse that would not further offend him, give away her true intentions, or jeopardize the mission made her head whirl. “You’ll be working, and I doubt Lord Locksley wants me distracting you from your duties.”

“Hang Rob,” he said flatly. “Come anyway.”

“Be patient, Will. We can get together later, when we can have more time for ourselves.” She would never see him again. Last night was all that they would ever have, and she’d run from him. It made this farce she was playing out into a cruel form of self-torture. “Wouldn’t you rather be alone with me?”

“I’ve done nothing but think about that, and you,” he admitted. “All day, I’ve had no peace. I barely slept. Reese, I know we agreed in the beginning to be friends only, and that neither of us wanted a serious affair. Somehow last night we strayed beyond that, I think.”